


to return a thousand times

by ShrapnelChan



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Allusions to Suicide, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShrapnelChan/pseuds/ShrapnelChan
Summary: “You’re not afraid of anything, not even the ocean. This is the thing that has you running scared?”“I’m not running scared,” Nessa finally says. She stands and turns away from Raihan. “I’m playing it safe.”.She does not look at the words writing themselves across her hips and ribs; she does not need to. She does not have the gift of foresight as Knowledge does, but she knows where her future lies, and it is in script-covered arms with golden curls tangled in her fingers.it will fade, Knowledge says, her voice clear like a bell. the ink, and more.then it will fade, is Metamorphosis’ reply. i have my hands full of you, the only constant i need...Or, the reincarnated goddesses Sonia/Nessa au that no one asked for.
Relationships: Dande | Leon/Kibana | Raihan, Rurina | Nessa/Sonia
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	to return a thousand times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megapidgeots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megapidgeots/gifts).



> A (belated) birthday gift for Seb ❤️ I hope you enjoy!

“I am certain that I have been here as I am now a thousand times before, and I hope to return a thousand times.”

=Johann Wolfgang von Goethe=

* * *

She is falling, falling fast and deep and with great gulps of air ripped from her lungs by the vacuum of sky that is getting farther and farther away as she plummets to the snowy grounds below. She is burning and freezing and shredding and compressing and _oh she is whole again,_

her wings are gone where have they gone the feathers zipping past her line of sight like arrows into the starry skies scales and pinions and earth ripped from her flesh and lingering in the air behind her as she sinks through the air –

Words trail through the air with her. A hand grips hers tight, squeezing like a lifeline with fingers laced together like threads in a tapestry. Ink and lyrics and illuminations join the feathers and scales, dotting the clouds with gold as they pass. They will remain in the stars, remnants of an old life now gone. And she, she will be reborn.

She will be whole again, with Knowledge by her side.

And So It Once Was, And So It Shall Be.

* * *

twenty-three march, twelve thirty-six pm

Nessa sighs and leans her head on the table. Muscles flex as she stretches her arms out in front of her and she sighs.

“She’s just… so…. Ugh.”

“Wow, that’s descriptive.”

Nessa glares at Raihan. He’s sniggering at her, and she scowls and tosses a pen at his head. It’s a bit like a target, she muses, a big neon orange target for whenever he’s being rude. Like now.

He snickers and ducks the pen. Rude.

“If you like her so much, why are you telling _me_?” His blue eyes dance with amusement as he finally stops laughing long enough to talk to her properly. “Wasn’t that your advice for me, what, two years ago? ‘Just tell Leon that, Raihan, I’m sick of hearing you moon over him’.” Nessa rolls her eyes at the high-pitched voice he puts on.

“I do not sound like that,” she says flatly.

Raihan pulls out a chair from the table and sits next to her. “No, but it was good advice. Earned me a date, and I think it went rather swimmingly.” He’s not wrong: that date had turned into a second date that turned into a third, and now the two are living together in obnoxiously domestic bliss. Not that Nessa’s bitter or anything – she’s happy for her friends. Really.

Raihan leans his chin on his fist. “What’s got you so stuck on doing the same? Just head on down to Wedgehurst, march into the lab, and ask Sonia out for a drink.”

Nessa groans. “It’s not that easy, Rai!” She runs her hands through her hair. The tiny gems the makeup crew had put on her nails that morning catch on her braids, and she curses as her hair is pulled. “Damned fancy acrylics!”

“Here, let me.” Raihan carefully untangles her braids from her decorated nails. His hands are rough on hers, the skin scratched and battered from the constant harsh winds of his battles, like the bark of an old tree. “So why is it not that easy? You two hang out all the time. It’s just like that. Only. Y’know. Romantic.”

Nessa does not reply. Raihan finishes disentangling her nails from her hair and guides her hand back to the table. She mumbles a quiet “thanks” and drums her nails on the wood. The acrylics click, clack-click across the surface, a staccato beat out of sync with the clock ticking on the wall.

Raihan sighs. “Ness, what’s the worst that can happen? She says no? You stay friends, and can stop stressing over this?” He pauses and leans back in his chair. He looks her square in the eye as he challenges her hesitations. “You’re not afraid of anything, not even the ocean. This is the thing that has you running scared?”

Nessa bites her lip. It’s not that she’s afraid to ask Sonia out. Raihan is right, they already hang out all the time. And get fancy dinners and lunches together. And Sonia has been Nessa’s plus one to league events for years now. Nessa has fielded more than a few questions from the press about their relationship. Each time, she has clarified that they are “just friends, thanks”. And each time, she can’t bring herself to look Sonia in the eye as she says it, as though the eye contact would make it true. Nessa doesn’t want that statement to be true.

She doesn’t want Sonia to want it to be true.

“I’m not running scared,” Nessa finally says. She stands and turns away from Raihan. “I’m playing it safe.”

* * *

Golden strands splay over the pillowcase and tangle with sky-blue braids. Fingers etched with lyrics tip-tap across her skin, leaving inky trails across dark flesh. The ink twists on her stomach, her arms, forming words, prose, poetry, epic tales and fantastical stories blooming across the skin as fingers walk their way up her sternum to her chin. Words burst to life in aqua, moss, golden hues over her lips, following the lead of one ink-soaked fingertip.

She does not look at the words writing themselves across her hips and ribs; she does not need to. She does not have the gift of foresight as Knowledge does, but she knows where her future lies, and it is in script-covered arms with golden curls tangled in her fingers.

_it will fade_ , Knowledge says, her voice clear like a bell. _the ink, and more_.

She sighs and settles in closer. Feathers float around them like snowfall. Scales click together as her tail curls in tighter and ink seeps into her flesh, tracing out the seashell-like patterns imprinted on her shoulders.

_then it will fade_ , is Metamorphosis’ reply. _i have my hands full of you, the only constant i need._

A long nail trembles over her lips, ink dripping from the tremor. _constancy is fleeting now,_ that melodic voice says. _we must think to the future._

She reaches up and grips that shimmering, trembling hand, kisses fingertips and palm and knuckles. _you,_ she says, _you will always remain, my love. as will i._

_but not like this._ A frown is twisting the tiny cursive script that outlines soft lips.

_no,_ she says with a sweet press of her lips on Knowledge’s. _not like this_ _._

* * *

three april, four forty-two pm

Hop is alone at the lab when Nessa arrives. He’s grown taller since his gym challenge, and when he scrambles to his feet to come greet her, Nessa has to look up to meet his gaze.

“Hi Nessa! Sonia’s not here right now, she had an appointment – is that from that fancy place she likes in Hulbury?” Hop looks down at the paper bag in her hands, and his glasses slide down his nose as he talks.

Nessa smiles and lifts the bag up. “Yes, it is,” she says. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Hop shakes his head. “Nah, she said it could take a while, and she might not be back until tomorrow. Wasn’t sure how she’d feel after, or something.” He pushes his glasses back up his face.

“After what?” Nessa cocks her head to the side. “Is she not feeling well?”

Hop grins. “Nah, nothing bad. I think she wanted to surprise everyone, though, I’ll let her tell you. Show you. Something.” He laughs and his laugh is so like Leon’s in its brightness.

_bright stars shining in the night sky, snowflakes and leaves and feathers flying in the race to catch up, golden ink tracing their paths like vapor trails_

“I can put it in the fridge for you, if you’d like?” Nessa blinks at Hop’s offer, startled out of the memory of her dream.

She holds the bag out to him. “That’d be great, thanks – ”

“Not necessary! But thanks, Hop.”

Hop looks up over Nessa’s head, and Nessa turns on the spot. Sonia is standing in the doorframe, the sunlight hitting her hair and making it glow like a golden crown. She smiles at Nessa, and the warmth of it makes Nessa’s heart skip a beat.

Her gaze skims down to Sonia’s shoulders. She’s not wearing the lab coat today, leaving her arms bare in her sleeveless sweater. And Nessa can see why: starting on her left shoulder and trailing down her arm is a fresh tattoo. The skin around it is red and swollen, obscuring the design from view. What Nessa can see of the tattoo is red and orange flames surrounding a cursive script.

She must be staring, because Sonia follows her gaze and grins. She turns her shoulder to face Nessa and asks, “What do you think?”

Nessa steps closer to see the design better. The script is a stark black against warm ink and angry inflamed flesh, the letters curling and trailing over each other and blending into the fire design of the phoenix that surrounds it. “a light from the shadows shall spring,” it reads, and it is curved to match the upwards wingspread of the fiery bird. A long tail flows down like liquid fire, fizzling out into smoke with golden sparks flecked throughout.

“It’s beautiful,” Nessa says, and she looks up at Sonia and Sonia’s eyes are shining. She’s smiling and her eyes are sparkling and Nessa is hit with a wave of how _right_ this is, ink on Sonia’s skin and warm joy radiating from her very being. “Does it hurt?”

“Feels like my shoulder is actually on fire,” Sonia says with a laugh, but she’s still grinning.

Hop steps closer, standing beside Nessa to also look at Sonia’s tattoo. “You’re bleeding,” he says, “is that normal?” Sonia pauses a moment and blinks up at Hop, like she hadn’t heard a word he said. She blinks again and focuses her gaze on him properly.

“Am I? Shit.” Sonia steps into the kitchenette and wets a cloth to daub at the tattoo, hissing at each contact with the skin. Hop and Nessa follow.

Sonia is staring at the tattoo, and her eyes are glazing over. The hand holding the cloth stills, and she is looking at her arm but not seeing it.

Nessa frowns. “Sonia?”

Sonia blinks and jerks to face her. She hisses at the pull on her shoulder. “Sorry! Sorry, just a little out of it. ‘s normal, from what the artist said. The blood and the dazing.” She smiles then and turns to Hop. “I should probably take a step back from the lab work for a few days, make sure I’m not bleeding on a slide.”

Hop nods back at her with a fond smile of his own, pats her un-inked shoulder, and retreats back into the lab.

Nessa leans against the counter next to Sonia. They rest quietly for a few minutes. Nessa watches as a drop of blood forms over one golden spark, and Sonia blots it up with the damp cloth. The towel in her hands is now streaked with inky blood, red and black and gold.

“The colours are new,” she says. “I thought you were going to stick to the smaller scripts?”

“Well, I was.” Sonia turns and leans back against the kitchenette counter, looking down at the tattoo with the damp rag raised and ready to daub at any more blood. “I’ve been kinda wanting a larger design, something with more colour,” she admits. “It feels right, too. Like I was meant to have it.”

Nessa nods. The gold flecks stand out against the black smoke of the phoenix’s tail and burn into Nessa’s eyes. She trails her gaze down Sonia’s freckly, inked forearms. The redhead’s forearms are lined with words, quotations from favourite authors, words of strength and love from friends trailing down to her wrists. Not a drop of colour rests within the words, however. Sonia liked the stark contrast between the dark ink and her pale skin, she’d told Nessa once, it gave those words greater impact. Each turn of phrase had carried Sonia through some hard time or another, and she engraved those words into her skin with ink to remember for eternity.

The warm colours stand out even against the red of Sonia’s hair like a bonfire, and Nessa’s gaze is pulled back up to her shoulder.

Sonia is right. This does feel _right_ , like the bright colors have been there all along.

Deep in the far reaches of a dream, ink-soaked fingertips dance along dark skin and golden words bloom from the touch.

* * *

The heat of the fire leaves her skin dry like old parchment. The feathers in her wings quiver and the scales on her shoulders shrink back into her skin, leaving her flesh feeling like leather or the bark of an old tree.

Golden ink pools in teal eyes and drips down scripted cheeks, katakana and hieroglyphs forming in the tear tracks and shimmering in the fire’s light. Drops of ink splash on the dirt that blackened fingertips scrabble in, and illuminations sprout like seeds from the earth.

Metamophosis recalls, once upon a time, Aspiration blooming in ink-soaked earth, digging in his roots deep before reaching up tall with leafy branches to stretch up towards Inspiration’s bright star, guiding humans on the path to follow Inspiration.

Now, humans throw the gifts Knowledge has given them on the pyre and watch them burn even as Knowledge screams to see her children catch flame.

She rests a cool hand on her lover’s back, damp seeping through the fine silk scrolls she is draped in. Knowledge turns away from the fire, unable to watch, and sobs into Metamorphosis’ chest. A hand comes up to wipe away the scripts that flow from pained eyes, ink staining the translucent webbing between her fingers, and the vision of the fire fades. Feathers settle, scales shift, and boldly illustrated lettering continues to bloom from ink-stained soil.

_they will lose faith_ , Knowledge says, and one cursive lip trembles. Desperation and devastation strain her voice and her body shakes with the effort to stay upright. _they will cast me aside and i will fade, they will cast you aside, and you –_

Gold tears overflow from inkwell eyes once more and a sob lodges the words in her throat. Metamorphosis kisses the ink away, smearing gold over her lips like paint. She lifts Knowledge in her arms and beats her wings one, twice, lifting off the ground. Rippling muscle and hollow bones carry them away, far away, anywhere but here where the markers of the future still flower and bloom across the soil that now runs red with ochre.

She whispers sweet nothings of the mutability of the future into golden curls until her wings crumple with a final beat and they both come crashing back down to the ground.

* * *

twenty-six may, eleven sixteen am

Clear blue water splashes along the edge of the pool. Nessa’s red swimsuit is already soaked through, clinging tight to her skin as she leans up on her elbows, lifting her body out of the pool. Her Rotom-phone sways in the air as it patches through the call. Sonia’s picture is small, but bright and clear on the screen, teal nails glinting bright in the sun as she holds up her hand and looks over her shoulder with a smile.

The gym is empty of gym trainers for once and is filled instead with a large camera crew. A makeup artist and a hair stylist are scribbling ideas down in a notebook while the director of the photo shoot waves his arms in the air, trying to describe the looks he wants to see. A particularly tall man is fiddling with a ring light and keeps ducking down to look through the camera’s viewfinder, then standing up again to reach up and make minor adjustments.

It’s a lot of hustle and bustle, but Nessa lets it all flow around her with ease. She is on a break, and she is going to call her girlfriend. Best friend. Girlfriend? No, she shakes her head. Best friend. She’s been hanging around Raihan too much with his constant “you’re already basically dating, just make it official,” if she’s making these sorts of slip-ups in her head.

The call is accepted with a _click_ and Sonia’s face fills the screen, smiling and tired and relieved all at once. “Hi, Nessa!”

“Hi, yourself,” Nessa says, a hint of teasing in her voice. She grins at Sonia. “How did it go?”

Sonia sighs, a big rush of relieved air that is accompanied by her shoulders sagging from their stiff posture. “It went really well! I missed your earlier call because we went over time, there were so many good questions!”

Nessa smiles at Sonia and her eyes sparkle with pride. “I told you they would love your paper. You only spent the past two years working on a new energy source for the region. You did amazing, Sonia.”

“It’s not really a _new_ energy source.” Sonia ducks her head and smiles at the compliment even as she deflects it, and her cheeks are dusted with a rosy pink. “It’s just redirecting the excess energy from the overactive power-spots and combining it with the –”

“With the energy generated from the water plants we can install at Hulbury and Circhester.” Nessa smiles brightly at her friend, who ducks her head down further as her blush darkens. “I’m excited to see this all be put into practice finally. It’s at least a few years off, though, right?”

Sonia straightens and nods. “Yeah, we have to get everything reviewed and theories all confirmed and ideas exchanged further, and then we can get funding and get projects approved, and after all _that_ then we can finally start actually working on it all. It’s all five, ten years in the future, at least.”

“But it’ll be enough.” Nessa’s voice is soft and her eyes are clear, soft teal flecked with gold that reflects the ring lights in the gym. It’s been hard the last few years, everyone scrambling to figure out the details of the energy crisis Rose had identified. Leon especially has been worried about it, Nessa knows, and he still feels responsible for Rose’s actions on the Second Darkest Day. They’ve all told him that he isn’t responsible, that everyone will work together to find a real solution. He’s still worried.

Sonia’s research is important not just for the future of the region, but for Leon’s own mental health. Raihan’s too; he’d thrown himself into fixing the Hammerlocke Power Plant and keeping it well-run the past two years. She and Sonia are both worried about their friends; they take too much responsibility for Rose’s actions.

“Yeah,” Sonia says, and her smile is so soft as she meets Nessa’s eyes. Nessa feels her heart skip a beat, and the Butterfree start fluttering in her tummy again. “It’ll be enough.”

* * *

Cool water flows over the tattered fins along her tail, and she winces and sighs at the sting and the relief of the pain. Once-glittering scales are now dull and scratched, and the bright teal and warm orange of her plumes are faded like they’ve spent too long in the sun. Feathers are scattered about the room, her wings tattered and scarred.

Despite the sorry state of her tail and wings, Metamorphosis’ eyes are still bright and clear like a summer sky. The splash of cold water makes her wince, pain clouding smooth blue and fading slowly like early morning fog burning off with the sunrise. A frown twists calligraphic lips.

_i am sorry, my love._ A hand comes up to smooth over the words as they form, her thumb tracing the outline of Knowledge’s lips as webbed fingers rest lightly on her color-marbled cheek.

_don’t be._ A smile kisses away Knowledge’s frown, bit by bit until a soft smile remains. _it is enough you are here with me. that will always be enough_.

Feathered eyelashes flutter to brush her cheeks when she closes her eyes, Knowledge’s soft lips peppering ink-stained kisses to her lids. The ink is dull, now, matte where once it shone like the sea. _constancy is fleeting, but you shall always remain, my love. you shift, and you grow, and you adapt to it all._ She hesitates, and warm breath puffs over high cheekbones. When she speaks, a tremor of uncertainty runs through her once so-certain voice. _teach me how to change? so i can remain with you._

Clear blue eyes blink open, golden ink swimming in crystalline irises. A small smile plays along her lips even as the ink fades from her skin. _my dear,_ she says, _i’ve learned from the best._

She presses a long, slow kiss to Knowledge’s lips, and whispers her truths against dull golden ink while metal gleams against the deep blue of her eyes.

_i learned from you._

* * *

three august, four thirty-three pm

Buzzing echoes around the parlor, filling Nessa’s head and drawing her attention away from Sonia’s face to stare at the machinery held by the artist. It is shaped like a large pen, curlicue cords connecting the needle-sharp tip to the small engine that powers it. The artist dips the flashing needles into a tiny inkpot and blots it on a damp paper towel before turning back to Sonia.

Sonia is lying on her stomach, her head turned away from the artist to face Nessa. Nessa is sitting by her shoulder, and her arm is bent at the elbow to clutch Nessa’s hand in a tight grip without pulling the skin of her back. The outline of the latest tattoo is done, and the artist is just adding a few colourful details to the design to finalize it.

Nessa traces the words inked into Sonia’s bicep with her eyes and squeezes Sonia’s fingers tighter to keep from trailing a finger over them. Sonia blinks hard and squeezes back lightly when the needles hit her skin. The shading needles are a duller pain, Sonia had once told Nessa, than the outlining needles. They penetrate the skin less and spread the pain out over a wider area. It’s still pain, Nessa had responded, you used to cry at every skinned knee, and you’re fine with this? Sonia’s warm smile as her gaze flickered down to colourful scar tissue forming flame and smoke on her shoulder was confirmation enough.

Though Sonia loves getting the inked marked into her skin, Nessa can’t help but hate the machine for causing Sonia pain.

And the volume, and the needles. Those two are not Nessa’s friends, not when she could be in a pool of cool water with the world around her muffled and no needles digging into her flesh like tiny daggers.

She turns her gaze now to Sonia’s back, where the latest ink is being penned into her shoulder blades. Words trace the outline of wings, inspired by a dream, Sonia had told Nessa, one she’d had many times since she was young. Aquamarine and deep mossy green and now glittering gold glows surround the words, adding shadow and texture to the feathered design and highlighting the words.

_my hands full of you and so it once was the only constant i need and so it shall be_

On and on the words repeat in an endless loop through arcs of bone and muscle and afterfeather. The words echo through Nessa’s head still, some remnant of a dream she’s had. Or was it a dream Sonia had told her about, many years ago when they were just setting out on their paths?

Sonia’s hand squeezes hers again as the needles pass close to the thinner skin over her ribs. Nessa’s gaze flicks back to meet Sonia’s, and her heart flutters and the warmth in that gaze. Sonia smiles at Nessa.

“It’s easier with you here to hold my hand,” she whispers.

Nessa feels the heat flood her cheeks. She’s grateful for the quiet focus that the tattoo artist pays to Sonia’s back, giving them a moment of privacy. The artist is a cheerful woman who had jovially exchanged conversation with both of them and quieted down as the appointment stepped into its second hour. Even with her right next to them, long hair tied back in a curly dark bun as she leans over the design she is inking, the words Sonia speaks to Nessa feel as though they have been spoken in complete privacy.

Sonia’s fingers twitch against Nessa’s hand, and Nessa turns their hands to lace her fingers with Sonia’s.

Nessa makes herself a promise, then, with acrylic nails grazing the back of her hand and teal eyes looking up at her with such gratitude and love. Sonia will never have to do this by herself again. No matter how much Nessa hates the loud buzz of the tattooing machinery, no matter that needles make her nervous to the point she’s afraid to even consider getting a tattoo herself. Sonia will never have to go through this pain by herself again.

Never alone. Never again.

* * *

Her wings are empty frames now, long arcs of bone and decayed muscle that drag in the dirt behind her, leaving trails in the soft soil. Her tail no longer forms, leaving her only with her legs to get her to where she needs to be.

No matter, she will not be long here, and then she can return to rest with her. She must return soon, before the ink runs dry from stained fingertips. She will not let her be alone when that happens.

_i see you are also feeling the effects of the humans’ shifts._

She stops at the soft words, her chest heaving with the effort it has taken to get herself this far.

Inspiration is looking a fair sight better than she and Knowledge, though that isn’t saying much. His once bright crown and star-covered back are now dull, the twinkle fading like a drumbeat in the distance and the shimmer covered by a dim patina.

When he looks back over his shoulder, however, his eyes still shine like the bright northern star on a cloudless night, like a full moon rising over a calm sea.

_she is fading_ , she says, _i cannot watch her waste away. i will not_ _._

Inspiration laughs, a hollow, sad chuckle that chokes back a sob. _i would not expect you to. i cannot watch Aspiration fade, either._

A silence falls over the two, and the fading gods stand quietly and listen to the life around them. Crickets sing their songs, bats coo in the wide dark sky, an owl sweeps through and settles on a tree branch with a creak of bark. The wind rustles through the grass and casts ripples in the lake, water lapping softly on the sand. Inspiration takes a step closer to the water’s edge, and the grit of the sand crunches beneath his feet.

_we still have some power,_ he says. His words carry easily through the lakeshore. _myself more than most. i can return us to the circle, to the loop of life with a glimmer of hope that we shall meet again in a new life._

He turns back to her once more, and the shine of his star-eyes gleams soft and sad. _we will not be the same,_ he says.

_do it_ , she says. _she cannot die._

_she will not._

_i have your word?_

Another moment of silence passes between them. A whisper seems to travel on the wind, words itching up the flesh of her arms and calling for her to return. Leaves shake and Inspiration turns to the sound, and she knows he hears the same call in the murmuring of the trees. He looks back to her, determination bringing the bright shine back to starlit gaze.

_you have my word. And So It Once Was, And So It Shall Be_.

* * *

twenty-two september, nine fifty-two pm

Sonia and Leon whispering together almost always means they are plotting something.

Nessa learned this the hard way, way back when she still only saw the championship façade Leon put on for the crowds. That was an eye-opening experience, watching the two of them sit in the corner at a party and whisper, close and quiet, only for Sonia to distract Bea and Kabu long enough for Leon and Raihan to slip away for several minutes and return, unnoticed by all but Nessa. Raihan had even had the audacity to wink at Nessa, a finger held to smirking lips before he returned his attention to finger-combing Leon’s newly-mussed hair to cover the bruises he’d kissed into Leon’s neck. None of the other gym leaders had noticed, though she’s fairly certain Melony had her suspicions after she saw the older leader looking at Leon’s sweater with a suspicious gaze.

Leon and Sonia only whisper when they are planning something, and the fact they’re now leaning close to the wall of their booth and whispering fervently has Nessa narrowing her eyes at the pair.

“So, are you gonna ask her?” Raihan’s question pulls Nessa out of her thoughts, and she turns wide blue eyes on him.

“Ask who, what?” Raihan is smirking at her, hands folded together and leaning his chin on one wrist. His elbows are resting lightly on the edge of the table, and he is the picture of nonchalance. Nessa knows better – Raihan’s mind is always working, gears constantly shifting, focusing on creating a fresh battle strategy or helping Sonia to puzzle through some new history theory or watching Leon with hooded eyes.

Raihan reminds Nessa of the redwood trees she’s only seen photos of, the ones from forests in faraway coastal lands that stretch tall from the tops of mountains. They stretch ever taller, growing hundreds of feet and acting as living history. She’s read of tree stumps with thousands of rings to mark the growth of the giants, the red-orange wood glowing with its history when it is hewn. The redwoods live long, and remember longer, and Raihan’s constant thinking mirrors concentric circles retelling millennia.

He rolls his eyes at her. “You know. It’s been months, you still haven’t told her?”

Nessa scowls. So that’s what he wants to talk about. “Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself right now? It’s your birthday, and your boyfriend is off talking with a pretty girl instead of you.”

Raihan laughs, and it’s as clear as birdsong through the mountains. “Oh, there’s no stopping those two. Once they get going, best you can ever do is go with the flow and try to keep up. Besides,” he smirks at Nessa, showing off a sharp canine. “I’ve got birthday surprises waiting for me at home, too.”

“Gross!” Nessa chirps with a smile, and she laughs as she tosses the cherry garnish from her drink into his. He laughs through his protests, scooping out the cherry and flicking it back into her glass.

Their friendly squabble is interrupted by Leon snaking his arms around Raihan’s waist and resting his chin on a broad shoulder. “Rai!” he purrs, and noses close to Raihan’s neck. “Let’s get you another drink, birthday boy.”

“Oh?” Raihan says and twists to return the embrace. He pulls Leon into his lap, and Nessa winces as Leon’s back bumps into the table. The table shakes, nearly spilling their drinks even as Sonia grips it tight to steady it. Leon does not seem to notice, too focused on sharp canines and a hooded gaze.

“You’re gonna buy me a drink, then? Mister Chairman?” Raihan nips at Leon’s lip as he trails out the syllables of the younger man’s title, a smirk playing over his canines.

It’s a good thing their booth is in a secluded corner of the pub, Nessa muses, and she focuses her gaze on the ice swirling in her drink. The now battered cherry remains above the crushed ice as she stirs it with the two straws that are too skinny to drink from.

She’s just taking a sip when a weight settles on her shoulder and soft lips ghost over the shell of her ear. The hair on her arms stands on end and Nessa could swear she feels an electric current flowing from Sonia’s warm breath on her neck.

Sonia laughs low and murmurs, “Disgusting, aren’t they?”

Nessa turns her head and blinks at Sonia, an owl-like gaze fixed on the redhead. She is vaguely aware of Raihan and Leon slipping out of the booth and tugging each other away, whether to the bathroom or to the bar she does not see, and she cannot bring herself to care. Not when Sonia’s mouth is so close to hers, not when warm teal eyes are smiling up at her, not when a soft body is pressing close and long nails are scratching lightly along her lower back.

This has to be what Sonia and Leon were plotting, she thinks, and then Sonia is talking and the words are absorbing all of her attention.

“They’re gone now, though, which gives us some space to chat.” Sonia pulls away and Nessa’s arm reaches around to her waist of its own accord, keeping the other woman close. Sonia pauses. She looks up at Nessa and lays one hand over the hand on her waist, keeping the other on Nessa’s lower back. Nessa isn’t quite sure if her decision to wear a crop top tonight is a blessing or a curse as Sonia’s hand presses against the skin of her back. Between the closeness of Sonia’s warmth and the warmth in her belly from the alcohol, she isn’t certain that it matters which it is as she softly leans into that hand.

“Chat about what?” she asks, and oh, she is lost in Sonia’s eyes. Was it always so warm in this pub?

Sonia’s smile shifts to a smirk. “How about when you were going to ask me out?”

Time seems to freeze. The quiet murmuring of the pub fades to a soft hum and the flicker of the televisions by the bar replaying some gym battle or another blurs into an oil-painting background. Sonia’s fingers lace through hers on Sonia’s waist, and Nessa remembers a moment in a tattoo parlor a month prior when the rest of the world seemed to melt away until only she and Sonia remained.

“You,” she whispers, and she leans forward until she can feel Sonia’s warm breath on her lips. “You want that?”

A laugh makes Sonia’s body quake, and laced fingers squeeze tighter. “Silly, of course I want that! Have done for years.”

Years? She’s wanted Nessa to ask her out for years?

“Yes!” Sonia presses her forehead to Nessa’s, and oh, Nessa hadn’t realized she’d said that out loud. “Only you’re in the public eye all the time and have to deal with all the PR shite from being a leader and a model, so I was waiting for you to say something so I didn’t overstep any boundaries with that.”

Nessa leans into the press of their foreheads and smiles. “I’ve been a right idiot, haven’t I?”

“Oh, just kiss already!”

Sonia’s eyes widen, Nessa’s breath catches, and the hand on her back gives a comforting squeeze to soft flesh as they turn. Raihan is standing behind Leon, chin resting on his boyfriend’s head as he pouts at them. Leon laughs and tilts his head up to look at Raihan.

“Aww, you ruined their moment! They were about to kiss, I know they were!” Leon looks back at them and his eyes meet Nessa’s, and for a moment Nessa sees the twinkling of bright stars and the shimmer of golden ink. The moment fades quickly and Nessa sticks her tongue out at the pair, eliciting a laugh from Raihan.

“Yeah, moment ruined,” she says. “Weren’t you two off to get another drink for the birthday boy?”

In unison, they lift the drinks they carry in their left hands, their other hands kept busy linking fingers over Leon’s stomach. Sonia giggles and pulls Nessa closer.

“No matter,” she murmurs low into Nessa’s ear. “We can have as many moments as we like, tonight, tomorrow, and the next day,” she presses a kiss against Nessa’s neck, “and the next,” another kiss.

“Alright, lovebirds break it up,” Leon says with a laugh. He and Raihan settle back into their side of the booth and Nessa raises an eyebrow at him.

“Pot, kettle,” she says, and he laughs again and raises his drink to her before he takes a long sip.

Nessa smiles and glances over at Sonia as the conversation flows once more. The low light blurs together the colours of the ink on her arms and shoulders, though the dark scripts still stand out in a stark contrast to the pale skin they scar. Her hand is steady and warm and constant on Nessa’s waist even as she waves her free hand in the air while debating a historical theory with Raihan.

Sonia is right. They have the rest of their lives to spend together. One missed kiss will only make the next one all the sweeter.

* * *

They stand at the lakeside, fingers intertwined. Inkwell eyes have run dry and stained fingertips are cracking without the constant damp of inky fingerprints. Scales are missing from her skin, leaving more gaps in the flesh than she can count, and the last of her feathers are pressed between their palms.

The wind no longer whispers through tree leaves; Aspiration has already been reborn. They have watched him, and he is happy, no longer hollowed or faded, ready to find his Inspiration.

Inspiration will linger, fading slowly until the others return to the circle. Only then will he follow, when he is certain that everyone else is safe.

She hesitates. She is used to change, but Knowledge has always been her constancy, her lighthouse to guide her home. What if they change too much? What if they do not recognize each other elsewhere in the circle?

Knowledge lifts their hands and presses kisses to her knuckles, and golden lip prints linger on dark skin like lipstick stains before flaking off slowly. A single word forms in the fading print, and the hesitation fades.

She smiles at her lover and presses their foreheads close together. _i will find you again_ , she says. _i swear it_.

The world seems to unravel around them, and now she is falling, fast and hard past clouds and palaces and plummeting through ozone and cumulonimbus and stratosphere, all the way down to earth. She is burning and freezing and shredding and compressing and _oh she is whole again,_

And they are together, Knowledge and Metamorphosis, feathers swirling upwards in the vortex of air they leave behind them as they return to the circle. She cannot see her, but she can feel fingers laced tight with hers, and she can see the ink stains left on the clouds where she has brushed her hands against them in their descent. They will fade and crumble and renew and rise up strong once again.

Together.

And So It Once Was, And So It Shall Be.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ShrapnelChan) and [tumblr](https://kiliofdurinsline.tumblr.com/)


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